


Held Together By String

by soviet_Crab



Category: Jojo Rabbit (2019)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Hurt with very little comfort, I Bend Cannon to My Will To Make Things More Sad, Just a Little Soft, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, as a treat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 12:20:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25969588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soviet_Crab/pseuds/soviet_Crab
Summary: Freddie wrapped the covers tighter around himself, using them to wipe away stray tears."Nice going Finkel," he whispered to himself, "You've fallen hopelessly in love with someone who can never love you back."
Relationships: Freddy Finkel/Captain Klenzendorf
Comments: 7
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

Kurt Klenzendorf was almost able to relax. He was huddled down in a shallow trench next to his new Sub-officer. They were both chatting quietly, about home, about how much they missed real food. It was a quiet day and if he really focused, he could pretend he was just sitting in a muddy ditch back in Münsing. 

His Sub-officer, Freddie, was going on about his hometown. A tiny place in Bavaria called Faukenheim. He was leaning heavily into Kurt’s left side as he talked. It was so cold and the Captain was grateful for even a little extra warmth.

Only a week ago, Major Feldmeier had burst into his office and demanded he take on a Sub-officer. He had said something about not overworking himself but Kurt was too tired to really understand. He pulled a list of names out of his desk drawer and pointed to a random one. It happened to be Friedrich Finkel.

They continued talking and Kurt learned that Freddie was new to the front. He had spent most of the war so far doing sad little office jobs. He had been excited to get some real action only to be extremely disappointed by shells and mud and cold. 

The chatter began to die down with the coming night. One by one the stars were coming out. As the Captain stared up at the sky, he felt Freddie shifting beside him. The younger man adjusted to rest his head on Kurt’s shoulder.

“Don’t tell anybody but I really need to sleep,” he whispered.

Kurt grinned, “Sleep? Soldiers don’t sleep. We have pervitin for that!” he said, imitating the Major’s voice.

“Fuck pervitin, I need a nap.”

“What are you? A baby?" he joked. "Fine, fine. I won’t tell anyone."

“Danke.” And that was it. He was out like a light.

Kurt looked fondly at the sleeping Sub-officer on his shoulder. They had only known each other for a week now but were already good friends. He had to admit that the younger man was exactly his type. He was beautiful and blond and he made Kurt's heart melt whenever he entered the room. The Captain thought he might be bent but he was still unsure. He would just have to wait and find out.

The stars shined brightly above his head. This was the first clear night they had had in a while and Kurt hated it. No clouds meant it was colder and if a plane were to fly over them it would surely spot their trenches with ease. The starlight was more enough to illuminate the frozen mud at the bottom of the trench, casting odd shadows around the two.

There was a commotion from down the line and a high whistling sound from above them. Shells. Based on the tone, coming right at them. 

Kurt jumped to cover Freddie but he was not fast enough. When the shell hit only 5 feet away it sent a large piece of shrapnel into Freddie's collar bone and he fell back into the mud.

Kurt took most of the blast. He felt a white heat spread across the right side of his face and chest. The vision in his right eye vanished and he screamed from pain. Shells were still falling and he could hear Major Feldmeier barking orders in the distance.

He dragged himself through the muck over to where Freddie lay. He was barely moving and blood had soaked through the thin fabric of his uniform. The Captain propped himself against the trench wall, cradling the younger man in his lap. Freddie stirred, balling his fists in the other's coat. He whimpered quietly as Kurt desperately called for a medic. His eye burned in its socket, it hurt to blink.

When a medic finally came he stuck them both with morphine. Freddie began to relax but he continued to cry softly into Kurt's coat. As the first medic waited for a stretcher, the Captain began to feel tired. The pain had worn him out and now all he wanted to do was sleep. He hoped that when he woke up his vision would have returned. A void like black seeped into the corners of his limited vision and he let it consume him.

***

The darkness slowly faded and the room around Kurt came into focus. He was lying in a hospital bed, staring up at a grey ceiling. Beams of morning light streamed through the tall window behind him. Bandages covered his right eye and most of the right side of his torso. Pain burned in the back of his mind but he pushed it away.

He was about halfway down a long hospital bay. Without moving his head, he could see other, less fortunate soldiers lying in the cots across from him. Some were missing limbs, others were wrapped in so much bandage that he could not tell what was wrong with them. 

Tipping his head to the left sent waves of pain through his skull. He squeezed his unbandaged eye shut until they passed. When he opened it again he found himself looking at Freddie. The younger man was still unconscious. His right shoulder was heavily bandaged and large blotches of crimson seeped through in places. The sight made Kurt’s stomach churn. This was his fault. If he had just been a little faster.

Just then one of the nurses came to check up on him. She spoke with an Austrian accent as she asked Kurt about his arm and chest. He lied, telling her they felt fine. Then she moved to change his bandages. As she worked on his arm he asked about Freddie.

“He’s lucky. The shrapnel just missed his major arteries. Hopefully he’ll wake up soon.”

So Freddie was okay. He would live. Kurt had no idea why he cared so much about the Sub-officer. He sat up as the nurse moved to change the bandage on his eye. When she took off the old wrapping, Kurt opened his right eye to find, nothing. He could not see.

He felt panic beginning to rise in his chest. Kurt reached up to touch at his eye but the nurse caught his hand, holding it down.

“Don’t touch it. You’ll get it dirty,” she instructed.

“I can’t. I can’t see,” his voice broke around the words.

“I know, I know. You just need to relax. The doctor said that it might come back with time.”

Kurt nodded and held still as the nurse finished rebandaging his eye. She left once she was done, moving on to the next soldier in the cot to his right. He looked around for something to do and found a ratty old notepad on the table to his right. It must have been left behind by another soldier. With a little more searching he even found a pen. It was a little broken and low on ink but it could still write for the time being.

He slowly began to fill a page in the notebook with a small sketch. Kurt had first learned to draw when he was fifteen. There was not much else to do at the front so he started to try sketching the men around him. It quickly became a way for him to calm down and relax. After a shelling, he would draw the faces of the men he could not find.

Now he was drawing Freddie. He found it difficult for many reasons. First, even though the man was lying right beside him, Kurt could not seem to get his features right. He could not figure out why he was struggling so much. Second, his pen kept not touching the paper where he thought it would. He was beginning to get rather frustrated and just when he was about to give up, there was movement in the corner of his vision.

“So much for my nap,” Freddie whispered through gritted teeth.

He smiled, Freddie was alive. “What do you mean ‘so much for your nap’? You’ve been asleep for seven years, the war is over."

“Ha ha, very funny.” he said sarcastically. Freddie winced, trying to push himself up into a sitting position. When he looked over to Kurt his expression changed from mild annoyance to concern. “Your face, are you okay?

“Hm? Oh, I got some shrapnel in my eye. Vision’s gone but the doctors think it might come back.” He continued sketching. Freddie tried to lean closer and get a look at the notepad but Kurt shifted so he could not see.

Freddie eventually gave up and rolled onto his left side with a huff. “You’re being very boring and I’m still tired so goodnight.”

“Goodnight Finkel.”

The day was rather uneventful. Kurt tried to get up once but the nurses only ushered him back to his cot. The food was much better than the army paste he was used to so for that he was grateful. He spent most of his time sketching in the tiny notebook. It took a little practice to be able to use the pen. His depth perception was gone and it was difficult to tell where the pen would end up but he was starting to get the hang of it.

Once he was satisfied with his sketch of Freddie he moved on to drawing the flowers on table next to him. He had to turn his head unnaturally far to the right to see them and it was beginning to hurt. 

At around sundown, the nurse came to redress his wounds. After she finished, she moved to check on Freddie. She gently shook him awake and helped him to sit up. He winced and complained but the nurse got his bandages changed. 

Kurt caught a glimpse of the wound and swallowed bile. A large gash traced its way across Freddie's flesh, just beneath his collarbone. Stitches were barely able to hold the angry red skin together. When the Sub-officer moved his arm small droplets of crimson formed along the gash. God this was Kurt's fault. He was the reason Freddie was in pain.

When the nurse finished with Freddie's new bandages, she put his right arm in a sling. He seemed particularly sour about that.

After the nurse left, Freddie reached up and wiped at his eyes with his left sleeve. When he saw that Kurt was looking, his face flushed and he rolled over, pulling the sheets over his cheek. 

Kurt sighed and lay back down. He placed the small notepad and pen on the table and closed his eyes. Or rather, eye. He only had the one now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a little short but hopefully the others will be longer. i will try to get them out on some sort of schedule but what that schedule is is anyone's guess.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry in advance

Kurt stared dejectedly at his new apartment. He had been told it would be furnished but the only furniture he could see was a small table and a single chair. Large cracks ran up the walls and across the ceiling and a thick layer of dust coated everything. He twisted on the tap and rust coloured water ran out. He would just have to be thirsty then. Kurt made his way through the narrow hall and into the bedroom. It was small and dusty with only one tiny window and a twin sized bed. The bed had only a dirty pillow, no sheets or blankets, but he did not care. The second his cheek hit the pillow, he was asleep.

He and Freddie had been discharged from the hospital earlier that morning. The military was struggling to find the manpower it needed so they were released early. Kurt still had a bandage over his eye and Freddie could barely move his arm. They were both sent to Faukenheim and given a weeks holiday. Freddie was excited to be home and wanted to meet up with his old friends. Kurt planned to spend most of his time either drunk or asleep. 

His vision had not come back and he had given up hope that it ever would. If he was being honest with himself he would say that he hated living. He hated that he could not draw, he could not shoot, he could not pick things up, he could not walk in a straight line. He was useless. Kurt had no idea why he was still even in the Wehrmacht. 

Freddie’s arm was supposed to be in a sling but he barely wore it. He would whine and say that it was uncomfortable and take it off. Then he would whine and say that his shoulder hurt and put it back on and the cycle would continue. Kurt had no idea what he saw in the Sub-officer and he hoped the feelings would soon go away. The man was really quite insufferable and he was glad for the week-long break from him.

After their holiday, they were supposed to work at the HJ office in the inner city. The previous Captain had been re-deployed to the front and they needed a replacement. Once Freddie’s shoulder had fully healed, he would most likely be re-deployed too. And if he was not then Kurt would request that he was at least transferred.

Kurt had planned on sleeping through the rest of the day but his nap was interrupted by a knock at the door. It was probably the landlord coming to talk about rent so he got up. The clock on the nightstand told him it was just after six pm. He stumbled to the front door and threw it open only to be met with Freddie, a stupid smile plastered on his face. He was not wearing his sling and was holding a bottle.

“I thought I’d get you something to drink other than that nasty whiskey you always have,” he said, presenting the bottle. It was cheap, strawberry wine.

“Oh um, thanks.” Kurt took the bottle and tried to keep the rising blush off his face.

“A couple of friends and I are going to dinner tonight, if you’d like to join us?”

Kurt wanted nothing more than to say yes. But he couldn’t allow himself to get close to Freddie, so he made up a bullshit excuse, “Sorry, I can’t. Got to clean this place up.”

Freddie peeked inside, a look of disgust on his face, “Oh, well, good luck. That looks like a lot of work.”

“Yeah, it is.” Then he quickly closed the door.

Kurt set the bottle on the dusty table, debating whether or not to drink the whole thing right there. He decided against it. The flat had no glasses so he took a sip straight from the bottle. It was definitely cheap but after so long with just whiskey and gin it tasted fabulous. Where did Freddie even get this? He poured some into his tin flask and took the flask back to bed with him.

The rest of his week was spent sleeping and slowly drinking more of the strawberry wine. He wanted to stretch the bottle as long as possible as he had no idea when he would get to taste something like it again.

On the rare occasions that he ventured outside his flat, he always seemed to run into Freddie. Talking to the younger man might be a good idea since they were still going to be working together but he just did not want to. It seemed like such a hard thing to do to even just say hello. The worst part was the hint of hurt on Freddie’s face every time he ignored him. It tore Kurt up inside.

He did not understand why the Sub-officer wanted to be around him so much. It was not like he was a nice person. But somehow Freddie actually enjoyed his company. He was still rather annoying but Kurt was beginning not to mind him. And that was bad. Whenever he got close to people it always ended terribly for them. After the shelling, he needed to distance himself from Freddie as much as possible. 

That horrible day still haunted Kurt’s dreams. Only, in his sleep, the medics never came. Every night Kurt had to watch as Freddie slowly bled out in his arms. Sometimes their spots would be reversed and Freddie would be peppered with shrapnel while Kurt was unscathed. In those dreams his death was always so much worse. As the life drained from Freddie, he would curse him out, blaming him for not being fast enough, blaming him for all of his pain. Kurt hated it. He already knew it was his fault the Sub-officer was hurt. He did not need the nightly reminder. He would wake from these dreams a sobbing mess, take a sip of wine from his flask, and go back to bed. There was nothing else to do.

Losing his eye had affected his life in ways he never would have considered. His hand writing had gone from mediocre to appalling and he could barely sign his own name. When he was not drinking or sleeping, he was practicing his letters. He felt like a child.

The eye itself had clouded over into a solid pale blue. He hated the way people looked at him. Kids would stare and point, some would act afraid, some would laugh. Kurt wished he could just disappear. He bought a pair of dark glasses and they hid his eye well enough. That made him feel a little better.

He never got around to cleaning the flat. All he did was buy a few groceries and fix the tap in the kitchen. Today was his last day of holiday. Tomorrow he would be back at work. Throughout the week he had managed to only drink half the bottle of wine. He doubted it would last much longer as he was almost out of whiskey.

That night his dreams were as bad as ever. He woke several times in the night and struggled to get back to sleep. At six he gave up on getting anymore rest and got out of bed. The taps in the bathroom were still full of rust and he had not bothered to fix them so he rinsed his hair in the kitchen sink. He took out his tiny, military issued, shaving mirror but without his eye he could not see the right side of his face and cut himself with the razor. He cursed out his eye, then he cursed out the Russians, then Hitler himself for starting this idiotic war.

Once the bleeding stopped, he dug out his uniform. It was a bit crumpled but he did not have it in him to care. He tugged it on and fixed his new golden wound badge on the left pocket. Getting the buttons done was a challenge but he managed to do them all and was out the door.

The walk to the HJ office was pleasant without other people around to stare at him. Once he got there, Kurt would be introduced to his new commanding officer, Colonel Swall. He had heard rumors about the man from other officers. Supposedly he had lost his mind on the front and those who got on his bad side always seemed to end up with new scars. Kurt did not believe most of the stories, dismissing them as merely exaggerations towards a commonly hated officer.

When he got there, Freddie was already waiting outside. He was wearing his sling this time and visibly brightened when he spotted Kurt.

“Captain! I was wondering when you’d show up.” He smiled.

Kurt hated to admit it, but he was almost happy to see the younger man. As much as he pretended to dislike him, he enjoyed his company. 

“Good to see you Finkel,” he said as he pushed open the door into the building, Freddie quick on his heels.

Once they got inside, they were met with a single large open room. Tall windows lined the right wall and at the back, a set of doors separated a small office from the rest of the building. Just to the left of the entrance was a tiny reception desk. A larger blonde woman sat behind the desk chatting animatedly with a taller man in uniform. When the woman spotted them, she waved, grinning like a crazy person. The man turned to face them and Kurt fought a shiver.

This was definitely Colonel Swall. He had neat, dark blond hair and a scar over his right eye. The scar continued into his scalera, leaving the right side of it a bloody mess. His eyes were a warm brown, almost pleasant, but that was overshadowed by the fact that he had the most empty gaze Kurt had ever seen. There were plenty of broken soldiers from the front but they were nothing compared to this. Kurt gave a quick salute. Swall smiled wide, lazily returning the salute.

“You must be Captain Klenzendorf then. Do you still have it?” He spoke with a light Bavarian accent

“Have what Sir?” he asked.

“Your eye of course.”

“Oh. Yes Sir, but, it’s blind.”

“Hm. A shame.” Swall spun to face Freddie, “And you must be his Sub-officer. Forgive me, I cannot remember your name.” His voice was sickly sweet, it made Kurt uneasy.

Freddie must have felt it too, his answer was barely audible, “Friedrich Finkel, Sir.”

“Friedrich Finkel! Of course! How could I forget. And what happened to your arm?"

"Hit in the shoulder with shrapnel, Sir."

"And can you still use it then?"

"Yes Sir. It just needs to heal Sir."

"Good. Good." Swall spun and headed towards the office in the back, "Well, Captain, this is your new office! Sorry, this job's pretty boring, and a cripple like you will likely never see the front again."

Kurt felt his shoulders fall as he followed the Colonel into the office.

"Really not much to do here. Train the HJ boys. Well, your Sub-officer will have to be the one to teach them how to shoot since I doubt you can aim. You can still do paperwork right?"

Kurt was about to answer but Swall clapped him hard on the shoulder, "Of course you can! I'll come to check in on you both every couple of weeks or so. Don't do anything stupid and don't get any kids killed." 

Swall made his way to the door, taking his great coat and cap from the secretary. She smiled stupidly at him and he gave her an empty thanks. Then he was gone.

Kurt had not realized how close he was to tears. He blinked them back and made his way over to the desk, not really knowing what he was doing. He sat, looking at the daunting stack of papers already there for him to do. Freddie followed him over, sitting up on the desk. He picked awkwardly at the stitching of his sling. When he finally spoke it was soft, almost timid.

"I don't think you're a cripple, and I bet you could shoot if you tried."

Kurt felt his heart melt at the words. Why did Freddie care about him so much? He had let him down, let him get hurt. Even so, he was still trying to make him feel better.

He nodded, "Thank you Finkel."

Freddie hopped down off the desk, casting him one last glance, and shuffled out into the main room.

The rest of the day was slow. Kurt learned that the over-enthusiastic secretary’s name was Rahm. If he dared start a conversation with her, she would ramble on about the greatness of the Reich for hours. He avoided her at all costs.

Freddie would come into the office every once in a while to ask what he could do to help. Kurt would try to tell him he was fine, that he needed no assistance. But Freddie would insist and so he would carry a small stack of papers to his desk for him. The Sub-officer told him he could do it himself but Kurt did it anyway. 

Not much really happened. Some HJ boys came in, they worked for a bit, then they left. All in all, it was a very bland day, the interaction with Swall being the only exception. Kurt found himself slipping into a comfortable, boring routine. He got up each morning, rinsed his hair in the sink, tried to shave and eventually gave up, dressed, and came to work. He never ate breakfast or lunch and his dinner consisted mostly of liquor and bread. One night he made potato soup but he had no spices and it was very flavourless. After dinner, he would go to sleep. 

Before the end of the week, the rest of the strawberry wine was gone and he was back to cheap whiskey in his flask. He still wondered where Freddie had gotten it. The Sub-officer was still rather annoying but, despite his best efforts, Kurt was beginning to find his company nice. He mentally kicked himself for getting so attached like that but there was nothing he could do. He also began to notice little things about the younger man that made him suspicious. The way he carried himself, how his hands always seemed to find their way to his waist when he talked. The longer he looked the more obvious it became to the point Kurt was stunned he had not seen it before.

After their second week there, Freddie stopped wearing the sling all together. Kurt did not know if it was because he did not want to or he did not need to and he never asked. They still always seemed to run into each other outside of work and Kurt made an effort to be more friendly towards him. Although their conversations never lasted long, they were pleasant. He found himself relaxing more around the other.

One evening, after work, Kurt was chatting casually with Freddie about how he still needed to fix the pipes in his bathroom. They were the only ones left in the building. Kurt had come to almost enjoy Freddie’s company. He liked the time they got together after work where they could just talk and, though he did not realize it, he actually looked forward to it each day.

Kurt turned to pick up his coat from his chair and when he turned back around Freddie pressed his lips against his. Instincts took over and Kurt shoved him, hard. Freddie fell to the floor with a yelp, grabbing his shoulder. His face was ghostly pale and he was trembling.

“Oh. Oh God.” He scrambled to his feet. “You’re not like me are you?”

Kurt wanted to say something, anything, but he was frozen in place.

“I, oh God, I’m so sorry. You’ll never see me again, just, please, don’t report me.” 

And then he was gone.

Kurt did not chase him. Instead he stood, staring at his hands. Everything had felt so right, just for a second, and then he pushed him. He walked on trembling legs back to his desk and sat down, holding his head in his hands. Freddie was gone. He doubted he would ever come back. Kurt began to cry, real, heart wrenching sobs. He had just lost the only person that kept him going. God, what had he done?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it gets better i promise


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if the pacing in this chapter is weird, im doing my best

Freddie stumbled into his flat, slamming the door behind him. He locked it tight and pushed a chair up against it. Kurt had no reason not to report him and he fully expected to be taken away by the Gestapo that night. He dug in the kitchen cupboard with shaking hands, pulling out an almost empty bottle of wine. The drink helped a little but not enough.

There was a horrible pit of fear in his stomach. How could he have been so stupid? Why on earth had he thought that Kurt would be like him? Tears began to roll down his cheeks and he let them. He could have sworn he was right.

He made his way to his bedroom and collapsed onto the mattress, not bothering to even take off his boots. It all seemed to hit him at once. How much he had depended on the other man. How much he had enjoyed his company. How if he had just never kissed him, he and Kurt might have continued to be friends. He knew that what he had done had killed him. Freddie wrapped the covers tighter around himself, using them to wipe away stray tears.

“Nice going Finkel,” he whispered to himself, “You’ve fallen hopelessly in love with someone who can never love you back.”

He cried himself to sleep, listening to the rumble of planes overhead.

His sleep that night was restless. Most of his dreams consisted of twisted variations of the events that evening. None of them were good. When he woke the next morning to find he was still in his bed he was genuinely surprised. No one had come to kick down his door in the night. Maybe they were waiting for him to leave his flat so they could make an example of him.

Freddie reached over onto his nightstand and felt around for his father’s watch. Only it was not there. He touched his wrist. Not there either. Oh shit, he had left it at the office. He had to get it back, he needed to. It was all he had left of the man, he was supposed to keep it safe.

He sat up, throwing off the covers. His uniform was a bit creased from having been slept in but he did not care. 

How was he going to get it back? It was almost noon, Kurt was surely already at the office. He would be waiting for him if the Gestapo were not. Freddie was so much weaker than the Captain, even if he did have full use of his right arm, he would not stand a chance. But he needed to get his father’s watch back.

After almost two hours of frantic pacing and terrified whispering, Freddie decided to go out and get the watch right then, before he lost the little courage he had. He was going to walk into the office, grab the watch, and walk back out. He was almost certain he had left it on his desk so there was no need to even interact with the Captain.

He smoothed out his uniform as best he could, trying to look presentable, and stepped outside. No one shot him so he was off to a great start. He marched quickly down the street, jumping at any sudden movements. Once he got to the office, he immediately regretted his decision. But it was too late now, he had come all this way. He opened the door softly, trying to keep the Captain from hearing him. 

Frauline Rahm however, did hear him. She waved wildly and called out to him, “Herr Finkel! I didn’t think you would be coming in today!”

Freddie pushed away the rising fear in his chest and focused on the watch. He could see it sitting on the corner of his desk. Just before he could grab it, he heard the Captain’s voice.

“Finkel, in my office.”

He froze, swallowing thickly. 

“Now.”

Freddie whimpered at his tone, turning away from the watch. He walked slowly into Kurt's office. Once he was inside the Captain closed and locked the doors. His heart fell. There were no words that could save him.

A hand brushed his shoulder and he jumped. Kurt came to face him, holding him in place. Freddie could not hold back the tears anymore as they slipped from his eyes.

“Hey, hey. Please don’t cry.” Kurt whispered, wiping at his tears.

Freddie was shocked. “You’re not going to beat me?”

Kurt looked crushed. “No. No I’m not. I just. Listen, I made a mistake, I never meant to push you. It was an accident. You just surprised me,” and then in a quieter, trembling voice, “I’m so, so fucking sorry.” 

Freddie did not know what to say. Had he really been right?

The Captain continued, “You can still leave if you want to, I’ll help you get your transfer papers in order. I’m sure you’re terrified of me. But, I would be really happy if you stayed.”

“Are? Are you, like me?” It was all he could think to say. After last time he needed to be sure.

Hope sparked in Kurt’s eye, “Yes, yes I’m like you.”

Freddie leaned in slowly, silently asking for permission. Kurt gave it, crushing their lips together. The kiss was sweet and full. The older man tasted like cheap whiskey and cigarettes. Freddie loved it, it was perfect.

When they finally pulled apart, Kurt had tear tracks running down his left cheek. He wiped them off with his sleeve. Freddie had been so scared for so long, he was exhausted. He collapsed into Kurt’s arms, resting his chin on the other’s shoulder.

“So,” Kurt whispered, “Does this mean you’ll stay?”

“As long as you want me, I’ll be here.”

The rest of the day was almost normal. Kurt announced loud enough for Rahm to hear that Freddie would be receiving a citation for being late. There would of course be no such citation. Freddie made his way back to his desk and slipped on his watch. The familiar weight on his wrist was calming. When he got home, he was practically dead on his feet. He slept well that night

Things began to even out between them. They became more relaxed around each other. Freddie would regularly come into Kurt’s office and they would both just sit and talk. Sometimes they would drink in silence, just enjoying the other’s company. 

Swall came for his first inspection later that week. Freddie felt the same pit of dread in his stomach as the first time he saw him. Something was horribly wrong with that man, he just could not put his finger on it. The Colonel poked around, asking a couple of questions, mostly about Kurt’s injury. He seemed to know exactly what effect he had and it looked like he enjoyed it. After he left, Kurt disappeared back into his office, closing the door behind him.

Freddie knocked softly, “Captain? May I come in?”

“Yes.”

He stepped quietly into the office. Kurt was sitting at his desk, reading over a file. Freddie came around and leaned on the side of the desk, pressing a quick kiss to the other’s right cheek.

“What do you want Finkel?” he asked, not looking up from his file.

“I know that Swall gets to you, I just want to make you feel better.”

Kurt blushed deep red, “Then, can I have another kiss?”

Freddie grinned and happily obliged. “You seemed so tough when I first met you. I like knowing that little kisses melt you the way they do.”

Kurt was still blushing, “And you seemed so annoying when I first met you. That hasn’t changed much.”

“Annoying?” he said, placing a hand on his chest, fiening hurt, “How could I possibly be annoying? I’m perfect!”

“You _are _perfect Finkel.” Kurt pulled him into a kiss and Freddie smiled.__

____

____

“You are too,” he said, sitting fully on the desk and crossing his legs.

“Even with my disgusting disability?”

Freddie frowned, “Don’t call it that. And I think it makes you look handsome.”

Kurt reached over and laced his fingers with Freddie’s, a tiny smile spreading across his face, “Danke.”

As days passed, Freddie came to love Kurt more and more. He had yet to tell him that but he thought the other might feel the same. Every time Kurt saw him, he looked at him with such admiration Freddie could feel blush rising on his cheeks. It had been so long since anyone had really liked him. It was nice. He hoped it would last.

It had been another week it was now officially the start of summer. People came and went from the office, HJ boys coming in to learn proper weapon care, mothers signing their children up for the Deutsches Jugend. There were two very overly excited kids that stood out to him. They stared in awe at the aray of guns Freddie had set out on one of the tables. One would occasionally lean in to whisper to the other, never taking their eyes off the guns. Their mothers finished filling out the forms, collected their uniforms, and then dragged them out of the building while they whined about wanting to look at the guns more. 

Just after the door closed behind them, a gunshot rang out. Freddie jumped and dropped to the floor. After a few minutes of silence Frauline Rahm sat up from where she had hid under her desk to inspect the new bullet hole in the wall behind her. Freddie whipped around, looking for the source of the shot. An HJ boy was staring with wide eyes at a rifle on the floor in front of his feet.

Kurt stepped out of his office, “What happened?”

“I dropped it and It went off. I didn’t know it was loaded.” The kid’s voice was quiet, he sounded terrified.

“What’s your name kid?” Kurt asked.

“Helmut Gobel Sir.” He was actively avoiding the Captain’s gaze.

“Go home Gobel. You’re done for the day.” Helmut nodded and shuffled out the door. “And someone put something over that hole in the wall before Swall rings my neck!” Kurt yelled before going back into his office.

Rahm quickly pasted another propaganda poster over the hole and Freddie turned back to the other kids who were still in a little bit of shock.

“Don’t do what he just did. All of these guns are loaded and primed. Do not point them at each other, do not point them at me, do not shoot at things because it ‘looks fun’. I’d rather you not become little murderers just yet.” 

Freddie moved back to the table to continue with the lesson. Once he was sure they all knew how to use the weapons, he led them down the road a little ways to practice shooting in an empty field. At the end of the day, none of the targets had a single bullet in it. He had the kids pack up the guns and put them away, then sent them all home and returned to his paperwork.

Rahm left early like she always did. The second the doors closed behind her, Freddie stepped into Kurt’s office. He had been nervous about this all day. Kurt was sitting quietly at his desk, finishing off whatever was in his flask. When he saw Freddie he stood, making his way over to him, placing his hands on the other’s waist and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“God that Gobel kid is going to be the death of me. Literally.” Freddie said.

“Mm, sad. I liked having you around,” Kurt joked. He walked over to pick up his coat, “So what are your plans for tonight Finkel?”

“Well, it’s funny you ask that,” Freddie swallowed his nerves, “I was wondering if you would like to have dinner with me at my flat?”

The other paused and he immediately wondered if he had said the wrong thing and was about to backtrack but Kurt spoke.

“I would like that. I’d like that a lot actually.”

“Oh, great! I don’t have anything fancy in terms of food but no one really does.”

“As long as it’s not bread I’ll take it.”

Freddie gave Kurt his address and told him when to meet him. They shared a final kiss, then he went home to make dinner.

The night went well, it went really well. Dinner was nothing fancy, it was just soup, but they both were happy. Kurt had brought a bottle of higher quality gin and they were both pleasantly drunk in no time. They were up late into the night. Talking slowly progressed into kisses and touches and the two moved to the bedroom.

Freddie was now lying happily in bed. He had sore thighs and a fresh bruise on his shoulder, and his head was pillowed on Kurt’s chest. The older man had been playing with his hair but he had fallen asleep a little while ago. Freddie was still awake, worrying that if he fell asleep he would wake to find this had all been a dream. But he was sleepy and Kurt was so warm. Finally he gave in, reaching up to press one more kiss to the other’s cheek before falling asleep. He had not felt this happy in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter should be a LOT longer. hopefully. i might be lying to myself


End file.
